


Daffodils and Dogbones

by secretagentfan



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe - customer service jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:59:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: Inukashi is a dog groomer. Shion's a baker. Nezumi's a florist.Also Christmas.(Written for No. 6 secret santa 2016)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minibunbon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minibunbon/gifts).



> Alternatively titled: This was supposed to be a supermarket AU but megucahomo stepped on my dreams.  
> I will still write a supermarket AU. One day.

     Inukashi is 90% sure he hates his job. 

     He hates every inch of the polished wood floor. He hates the expensive-ass lighting. He hates the pet stain clean up aisle and how it always smells like odor-eliminator; he also hates the dog bone aisle, which is right by the pet stain clean up aisle and, because of that, _also_ reeks of odor-eliminator. He hates his hoity-toity customers, and is glad that his grooming quarters, for the most part, put a lovely glass wall between them.

(He doesn’t mind their dogs, their dogs are fine, it’s not their fault they belong to assholes.)

     He hates the flower shop next door and the (obnoxiously) pretty florist who shot him a look his first day when Inukashi stood outside the building expressing a fraction, _a fraction,_ of surprise in the fact the goddamn so-called _family-owned petshop_ was bigger than his entire neighborhood.

     He can’t decide if he hates lunch. On one hand, he eats with Shion, and Shion’s a good friend, and got him the job and out of the relative hellscape they previously shared at Petco—Inukashi is abundantly, endlessly, magnificently grateful for that—

But on the other hand, Shion likes to _bring_ him lunch and in order to get anywhere remotely near the pet shop Shion has to pass by The Asshole.

Free bread though. Best price.

So.

Jury is still out.

* * *

 

     “Do you think he likes Christmas?”

     “Hell if I know what he likes, Shion. Gimme those clippers." 

     Shion does, oblivious to any irritation Inukashi has at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Multiple-Times-In-One-Hour. At first, Inukashi thought he was doing it on purpose, slipping the florist into their every conversation—now he’s realized it’s much worse: Shion doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Talking about Nezumi is as natural as discussing the weather or an irritating customer; it’s business as usual.

     “This is like old times, isn’t it? I’ve missed working with dogs. ” Shion says, after a mercifully quiet moment. He ruffles the collie’s fluffy mane and it eagerly leans into his hand, tags jingling.

     “Keep him there, I’ve got to trim its back paws.” Inukashi smiles wryly as Shion continues his petting. The collie’s looking at him with what can only be described as complete and utter adoration—Typical. Inukashi effortlessly snips off the tip of the dog’s nails, avoiding the quick. “Old times, huh. You could get a job here any time you want, you know. You’ve got the experience.”

     Working with Shion is honestly a dream. He’s good to the dogs, and while he’s an infinitely frustrating presence to every secretive human with his seemingly endless supply of questions and comments—he proves to have quite the calming effect on animals.

     _He’s like a tranquilizer_ , _only much cheaper and less stressful._

     “Who would work in the bakery, then? My mom can’t handle everyone alone.”

     _…Dammit._

     “She could work here too. Close the bakery, quit your thing at the newspaper while you’re at it, that guy’s bad news— and work here where the pay’s better.”

     “I’m not leaving my mom and Rikiga is a fine reporter. I’m still making enough, don’t worry.”

     “I’m not worrying. I don’t worry about idiots.” 

     “You should, they’re awfully foolish I hear,” Shion smiles his kindest smile and Inukashi wants to claw his face off. “I’m glad you like the job. It is pretty nice here, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the slightest bit jealous.”

     He doesn’t look jealous at all. Inukashi scowls. “I wasn’t saying that for you, I don’t even like—“

     Shion just laughs and Inukashi trails off, scowling. Whatever, Shion can think what he wants to think. The collie snuggles up to Shion who affectionately runs a hand down its back and Inukashi finds himself wishing deeper illness on his usual workmate so he can have Shion fill in for a little longer.

     “It’s strange.”

     Shion’s talking more to the dog than to Inukashi, cupping the collie’s panting happy face in his hands, scratching behind furry ears. Inukashi stares at his clippers, determined not to press, but after several seconds and a thoughtful ‘hm’ from Shion, he decides to bite.

     “Fine, fine, already. What’s strange?”

     Shion barely looks his way. “So many families ask you to trim their dog’s nails. That seems strange to me; even domesticated, a wild animal is a wild animal, and those are the only tools they have to defend themselves. It seems unfair to take that from them.”

     “Humans are assholes,” Inukashi says, not really thinking about the question, but about his customers. Shion makes a quiet noise that vaguely resembles _‘you’re human too Inukashi’_ but he seems to think better about starting up that conversation.

     “Is it wrong? To clip them, then?” 

     “You think I would hurt a dog, Shion?”

     Shion takes this in. “But, why?”

     Inukashi grins at Shion’s confusion, the warm satisfaction of _teaching_ sinks into his bones. It’s always nice to know things other people don’t know; it doesn’t happen often enough, in Inukashi’s opinion—although that’s more of a product of people focusing on the wrong things and not talking to him about dogs. 

     “Normally their claws wear down naturally, but their families don’t let them out enough for that to happen. It’s better for them in the long run to have shorter claws, so they don’t caught on anything— you know, rich people and their frilly carpets. Also, these dogs don’t need to defend themselves; domesticated dog, domesticated claws” —Inukashi pets the collie affectionately— “Sides, if I don’t do it, they’ll try and do it themselves, and actually hurt the dog. People are stupid like that. “ 

     “Huh.” Shion nods. “I see. Thank you Inukashi.”

     Inukashi tries not to bask in the praise, but he does anyway, joy bubbling up inside of him like an eager, squirming snake. Inukashi is intelligent, he knows this; intelligent in his own way, about important things like family, yes, if Inukashi knows anything at all, it’s family, and dogs are family.

     “Do you think Nezumi likes dogs?”

     He throws the clippers at Shion’s face.

* * *

 

     Reluctantly, Inukashi allows himself to be dragged into Nezumi’s flower shop under the guise of Shion’s noble search for a Christmas wreath. Why Inukashi has to participate in this shopping trip is beyond him, but he’s got to admit he’s a little curious if the pissy-faced flowerboy keeps a halfway decent shop.

     He does, unfortunately: the shop has painted lilac walls, covered in in an array of sweet-smelling flowers meticulously maintained and cared for. Soft, unobtrusive Christmas music fills the place with a home-like ambiance Inukashi bitterly finds comforting. The only thing ruining the perfect atmosphere is the lame resting-scowl of the boy behind the counter. He’s reading a book, something long and stupid.

     “Christmas or funeral?” Nezumi asks, not even bothering to look up when they enter and the bell chimes knowingly.

     “Christmas, if you don’t mind.” Shion says, confidently striding up to the counter. “What are you reading?”

     Nezumi slams the book shut with a perfect smile. “Nosey, aren’t we?”

     _Christmas or funeral indeed,_ Inukashi thinks. _We’ll find out which one it’s going to be together._  

     “I’ve been told that. Apparently my curiosity is frowned upon in customer service positions but I like to treat people like people, rather than some idea of how they should be.”

     Nezumi’s mouth quirks. Something in his eyes reads _what the fuck is this guy smoking_ but Inukashi might be projecting there because Shion what the fuck.

     “Christmas, huh? What kind of bouquet should I be looking for?”

     “I’d like a wreath. Something I can hang outside my mother’s bakery.”

     “Those are expensive.”

     “That’s not a problem.” Shion announces, confidently staring straight into Nezumi’s eyes and Inukashi wants to punt him across the room.

     _Yes. Yes it is a problem; you work two jobs because money is a **problem** , Shion._

     “Well, wreathes take a little time.”

     “I can wait.”

     Demonic grey eyes meet Inukashi’s and Inukashi finds himself stepping back halfway across the room, filled with the irrational fear that the florist might be able to suck his soul right out of body. ”Can your friend wait? Looks like he has to go.”

     “Yeah I gotta—“

     “He’ll wait.”

     Well then. Inukashi fires a glare Shion’s way but Shion is busy watching Nezumi lift himself out of his seat behind the counter like he’s some fuzzy specimen in a jar he’d want to study.

     To be fair, there is something fascinating, something repulsively liquid about Nezumi’s movements. He puts his book behind the counter and rests a hand lightly on his hip, drawing attention to the plain green apron resting over his front. There’s an embroidered flowering tree on it, what Inukashi assumes must be the logo for _Mao Florist;_ it would look silly on anyone else, but the stupid design fits Nezumi like a second skin.

     “Alright then, pick the flowers you want, Shion,” Nezumi says.

     “You remember my name.”

     “It’s store policy not to forget the name of strangers who provide me food during lunch breaks.” 

     Inukashi wants to puke when he imagines whatever lunch Shion brings for Nezumi. Apparently they bumped into each other Inukashi’s first day, and Shion somehow managed to find out 1) that Inukashi and the mysterious ratboy share a lunch break and 2) The Dickbag normally skips lunch.

     So naturally, Shion simply happens to pack extra. _Everyday_. His tenderheartedness is going to get him killed someday; but Inukashi knows better than to complain when he’s also profiting from that idiotic kindness.

     Shion studies the plants critically, occasionally looking to Inukashi for input. Inukashi doesn’t know shit about flowers so he just hums in places that seem appropriate and it seems to work. Shion eventually points to some large red flowers and upon Inukashi’s more impressed-sounding hum, makes up his mind. 

     “I’ll have these." 

     “Classic choice,” Nezumi comments unenthusiastically, having put on some surprisingly worn gardening gloves. He draws some sinister-looking garden shears from behind the counter, and twirls them on a finger dangerously.

Inukashi takes another step back, Shion’s unfazed, taking a step forward.

     “You seem disappointed.”

     “Oh, I just deal with a lot of poinsettias this time of year. I’ve already got a few set up for cutting in the back.”

     “I like poinsettias.”

     “I’m sure you do. Most do, around Christmas.” Nezumi grins, but makes no move to head to the back room. Business must be fucking slow.

     Shion opens his mouth and he’s making what Inukashi recognizes to be his ‘argument face’, brows drawn together and lips in a hard thoughtful line; it’s a typical sign that someone is about to either get roasted, or Shion’s about to spout off something airheaded. Sometimes both.

     “You ever intend to get cracking on that wreath, or are we going to be ninety by the time it’s done?” Inukashi pipes up, and to his great amusement Shion actually jumps. Nezumi glances his way, as if remembering his presence.

     “True art takes time, and patience,” he says reluctantly making his way to the back room. “But your satisfaction is my primary concern so…very well.”

     _Damned martyr._

     Nezumi closes a green curtain with the same annoying tree logo on it and leaves Shion and Inukashi to the sweet serenade of _O_ _Holy Night._

     “I don’t think he knows I know flowers,” Shion mumbles, obviously irritated. “I know flowers. I could give you the scientific name of each of these.”

     Inukashi blinks, then points at a random set of purple flowers in a vase. “What are these then?”

     Shion puts his hand on his chin, suddenly looking very concerned. Inukashi squirms a little under his gaze. “What?”

     “Inukashi, those are asters.” Shion says patiently. “… _Aster Amellus._ …I’m named after them, I know I’ve told you that before.”

     “Oh, I knew that. Somewhere. I didn’t know the scientific name though. That’s. Interesting.”

     Shion laughs a little, and Inukashi scowls _—_ whatever who gives a fig about flowers that don’t grow stuff you can eat _—_ and flicks a group of white and yellow flowers somewhere near the corner of the shop. “What about these?”

     “That’s easy. _Narcissus pseudonarcissus,_ commonly referred to as the daffodil _.”_

     “Huh,” Inukashi replies, and finds he really has nothing more to say on the matter. A strong clap interrupts his thoughts—followed by another. And another. It is, quite possibly, the rudest applause Inukashi has ever heard.

     “Not bad,” Nezumi announces, coming out from behind the curtains fucking dramatically, a small poinsettia wreath hanging from the crook of his elbow. “You really do know your flowers, don’t you?”

     “I’m studying ecology and I’ve been in numerous botany classes. I don’t enjoy bragging about it, but I thought you should know.”

     Inukashi frowns, baffled: _Why the fuck would the florist care that Shion took botany?_

     “I am impressed, although, I have a question for you, Shion.” Nezumi announces, approaching the _Narcissus pse—_ daffodils and standing by Shion. “What happens if you eat the bulb of one of these?”

Shion blinks, once. Twice. “Eat it? Why would you eat it?" 

     “Come on, Shion. What happens?”

     “I have no idea,” Shion says, and for some reason, he seems downright pumped about that. “It tastes…sweet?”

     “You get sick. Potentially fatal too, depending on the quantity you eat. That’s true for a lot of flower bulbs.”

     Inukashi stares, a little disturbed, determining once more to keep flowers out of his house and away from the dogs. 

     Nezumi grins, proud of his collection of creepy-as-hell information. “Looks like you still have something to learn—I doubt they teach you things like that in your botany classes.”

     “They don’t,” Shion practically glows, which seems to startle Nezumi a little, judging by the step back he takes. “I had no idea. Thank you very much for the information, Nezumi. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

     “Planning on eating daffodils, Shion?”

     “No, I’m planning to take a less academic approach to my study of flowers.”

     “Oh. In that case you’re…welcome?”

     Nezumi scratches his neck, and Inukashi actually feels an inkling of pity for the guy, clearly he’s drastically underprepared when it comes to dealing with Shion—but then again, who is prepared?

     “The wreath is beautiful, by the way. How much do I owe you?”

     “Ah.” Nezumi nods, removing the wreath from the place on his arm. “Consider it payment for your lunches.” 

Shion frowns, “I couldn’t—“ 

     “I’m not one for charity, take the wreath, Shion.”

     Surprisingly, Shion does, the grin on his face simultaneously pleased and confused.

     “Thank you, then.” He turns to Inukashi as if to ask ‘are you ready’ as if Inukashi hadn’t been ready for the last half-hour, and Nezumi returns to his space behind the counter, pulling out his book once more.

     The bell dings behind them, and Shion’s grin nearly blinds several birds on their walk to the bakery. They hang the wreath at the front door, and as always, Shion offers to make Inukashi dinner. Inukashi accepts, figuring Shion owes him for making him sit through…whatever that was.

* * *

  

     The next day there’s a bouquet of daffodils resting on Inukashi’s desk with a note in pretty curly writing that reads: “ _Give these to Shion, would you?”_

     Inukashi crushes the note in his fist, and makes deliberate, long-suffering eye-contact with a greyhound some rich asshole just brought in.

     He definitely hates this job.


End file.
